All so poetic, good luck exchanging your wings for horns, although I do not sit in the santuary, I meerly stand in the doorway. No fear of being hunted, no need to embrace my dark, but without the scantity or freedom that either choice implies.

i know what its like to stand on the blade of a razor. its a tedious trapeez.

we all must decide to go down one path in the fork in the road eventually freedom. either that, or you must make your own path in the fork.

either way, you must move forward.

even i havent quite paved my road yet. but im working on it.

however, murderouse bastards making me play puzzle games for my life do not make it easy to focus on said path so....ya know.

i like the way your mind speaks in symbols artemis. perhaps one day you and i can walk together into the world of the ones who wallow in madness, and discuss the shards of broken mirror that litter the ground and reflect our many broken aspects.

As was once said, I came expecting the road to be paved with gold, and when I got here, I found out three things: First, the streets weren't paved with gold; second, they weren't paved at all: and third, I was expected to pave them.

And though I am currently a shattered mirrors with many a razored edge, I am slowly pulling myself back together again.